The Insufferability of Falling in Love
by Emily Beauchene
Summary: He had never met a more insufferable bucket of piss in his life. Arthur couldn't describe how much he hated him, but there he was, assigned to be the tutor to Alfred F Jones. He had no time to be a tutor, he had a very successful blog primarily dedicated to complaining about the existence of the aforementioned American. Human highschool AU.
1. Chapter 1

_Let's just call him the most ignorant bucket of piss I have ever had the displeasure to meet. Every day I am forced to interact with him, and it causes pain in my very soul. I cannot describe to you, using all of the words in the whole damn world, even in different languages, how much I hate this man. I cannot even stomach to call him a man. If anything, he is an annoying, stereotypical teenage boy who can't get a clue, can't get over himself, and couldn't get better than an F if he tried. That is, assuming that this boy even knows _how_ to try. Yes, it seems an odd thing to say but it could not be truer. I still cannot think of a name to call him, as who knows, he could be reading this very blog, and it would be rude to just state his douche name to the entirety of the internet. Not that he's ever cared about being rude to me; he really is such a knob._

_ Just so you know, he is the type of typical teenager who runs around getting all of the girls with his stupid grin. He's, of course, the quarterback in that violent sport Americans claim is football when real football is far more dignified and much less idiotic and pointless. He fails all of his classes; he doesn't even try to be good at any of his subjects. Supposedly he wants to be an astronaut. Now what kind of dream is that? A rather stupid one if you ask me. He doesn't read in his free time, I wonder if he can even read at all._

_ Sure this all seems horribly rude of me, and you must all be wondering how horrible a person I am. Honestly I'm not. Sure, I can be rude and standoffish, but I'm nothing compared to _him_. He's convinced he's the best kid around the city, and that everyone should love and adore him. And they _do_. Everyone loves him and it's the most annoying thing I've ever seen in my life._

_ What's the worst part about all of this? You may be asking yourself. Why did you even bother to bring the subject up? What does it matter? Well, I'll tell you. This all started because of something I was assigned to do today. Something I could not even comprehend. Why had I been the one asked? Why not any of the other geniuses at our school? Certainly there must have been many more. I have far too many other things on my hands to worry about. But what was I supposed to say? No? I couldn't have said that, it would have come off rude and like I don't care about other people. Which really, I do, I care deeply for other people. Just not _him_. And yet here I am, typing this entry across the table from him. What do you mean? You're thinking, and I understand your confusion._

_ Yet here I am. I have been assigned tutor to the most insufferable prick you'll be glad to never meet and should be very happy that you have not met him. If you have met him, I pity you as I understand your pain. But now I've got it worse. Every afternoon from 2:30 to 5:00 I am the tutor of the worst human being I have ever had the misfortune to meet._

.

Arthur glanced up from his blog entry, raising an eyebrow at the idiot across from him who was obviously having trouble, but not wanting to ask for help. Groaning, Arthur submitted the blog, shut his laptop, and then moved his chair closer to his, well, his pupil's chair. He snatched the mechanical pencil from the other blond, going through and making little notes throughout his essay.

"Here, you've used the wrong 'your'", Arthur explained, crossing the mistake out and fixing it. Normally he wasn't this kind, and would just circle the mistake, leaving it for the other high school junior to figure it out. However, he was feeling especially kind today as the other boy had brought tea just for him as thanks for staying after school for so long even though he didn't need to.

"Thanks!" he announced, going back to writing diligently, or as diligently as he could do anything.

Arthur examined him in distaste, curling his nose. This boy had been the subject of his, mind you, very popular blog for the past three years. Of course, he wasn't the entire focus of it, Arthur wrote about his day-to-day life as an Englishman in America, and sometimes he posted little stories or poems, anything he could really think of. Sometimes it was crap, but sometimes he came up with something good. Recently, though, he just couldn't get over how much he hated this stupid American with his just-the-right-shade blond hair and his perfect blue eyes and those shining white teeth and that stupid grin that had all the girls dropping their pants.

Arthur just really hated Alfred F. Jones.

There was no justifying or explaining his hate, it was just something that was there from the moment he moved into the house right next to Alfred's. The overly excited American eleven-year-old had been far too excited to drag Arthur from the comfort of his room and his books and take him on "adventures" that always ended up with either of them coming home with something broken. Sometimes an arm, sometimes glasses, but either way Alfred always laughed and grinned about how much fun they had had, while Arthur moped about his Hogwarts letter being late because he moved to America.

However, that never happened. His supposedly misplaced Hogwarts letter never found its way to America, but Arthur tried to not let that get him down. What got him down was that he was stuck at school for an extra two and a half hours with the guy who was convinced they were the best of friends. Arthur wasn't sure that was how friendship worked; he had always thought friendship was when both parties enjoyed the other's company. Alfred, though, was a bit thicker than the average human being and couldn't read a mood if it were written in bright, sparkly letters.

.

Two hours later and Arthur was losing his mind. Sure, Alfred had been trying his hardest the whole time they were studying, and he had made some minor improvements, but that didn't mean it was any less torturous for Arthur. He couldn't even count the times he had been asked to help Alfred with some stupid English assignment or another.

Alfred hadn't even been able to analyze a simple poem. While Arthur tried not to chastise others for a lack of skill when it came to analyzing poetry, this had been ridiculous. Then, Alfred needed help memorizing a poem. Arthur couldn't understand how hard that could be, every damned day Alfred stood up completely straight, hand over his heart, preaching away his allegiance to the flag with the rest of the class.

"Typical American," the Brit growled, slamming his calculus book shut as 5:00 rolled around, the timer on his watch going off. "You can memorize some stupid pledge, yet not a word of Shakespeare."

"Hey!" Alfred said, standing up and frowning at the smaller male. "The Pledge of Allegiance means a lot to me, even if it seems weird to you."

"Why?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow and standing up as well, starting to pack his bag. "Are you going to betray America if you don't say it every damned morning?"

Alfred seemed taken aback by that, furrowing his eyebrows. "Well, no…" he muttered.

Arthur just nodded, turning on his heel and walking out of the library without a second glance behind him.

Frowning more, Alfred packed his own bag, not understanding what had happened between him and Arthur. They used to be such good friends, but for some reason that all changed when they got to high school. Was it because Arthur thought Alfred didn't have time for him anymore? That could be it, Arthur was prone to jealousy.

"Hey, Arthur!" he called, breaking into a light jog to catch up with the blond. "Would you want to hang out this weekend? The new Captain America just came out, it looks awesome! We could smuggle scones into the theatre like we used to when we were kids."

"Can't, Alfred," Arthur responded, quickening his stride and hoping that the American would get the hint that he didn't want to talk. To his dismay, Alfred very easily kept pace with him, what with his legs for days. Not that Arthur noticed such things about him. "I've got, um… to study for exams."

"I'll help you!" Alfred announced. "I mean, I know I wouldn't really be that much help, but everything always goes faster when there's two brains, right? And then we could go to the movie afterwards. Or just watch Netflix."

Arthur groaned, glancing at Alfred and frowning at him. "I would rather not, Alfred. I prefer to study on my own, but thank you for the offer."

"What about the movie, though? I don't mind if we go to like a midnight showing, it's always time for a Captain America movie."

"No, Alfred," Arthur snapped. "Not this weekend."

Finally, Alfred stopped walking with him, falling behind. Arthur didn't look back to see the heartbroken expression the other blond wore.

"Okay!" Alfred said, obviously trying to stay positive. "Maybe next weekend!"

Arthur didn't even spare him five seconds for a response, continuing on his way to the city bus stop.

.

The first thing Arthur did when he got home was open his laptop, instantly logging on and going to the internet. He still had a lot of homework to finish, but thirty minutes online couldn't do any harm. His message box was full, and he browsed through them for a few moments, answering ones that stood out to him.

_What did he ever do to you?_

_Exist, that's what._

_Does he realize how much of a douche he is?_

Arthur laughed at that question; no one had ever asked him that before as far as he could remember. Finally, someone understood. Most of his messages consisted of people accusing him of being too harsh towards Alfred, and that he was making false accusations. Arthur could assure anyone, he was not making any sort of false accusations.

_Unfortunately, no, he does not realize this. It makes every interaction with him worse than the one before._

The Englishman set aside his laptop, figuring he could work on homework and manage his blog at the same time, for the most part. Most of his attention was being dedicated to his homework, as he knew that he had to actually do it this time. He had been slacking far too often recently, and it had been causing some of his grades to lurk dangerously close to Cs. While his parents would have been fine with Cs, after all his brothers barely even passed at all, a C just would not cut it for Arthur Kirkland.

.

Around eleven, Arthur had finally finished everything, going over the two essays he'd written one last time before putting all of his assignments back into his bag. He grabbed his laptop, planning on just shutting it down, but pausing for a second as he saw that he had gotten a response from the same person as earlier.

_Are you exaggerating that he expects everyone to love him? Because I can't stand it when people act like that, I just want to smack them and yell "NO ONE CARES" y'know?_

Arthur grinned at the message, nodding in spite of himself. Yes, he did know what that feeling was like. In fact, every _fucking day_ he wanted to just smack Alfred, and hope that the douche went flying out of him. However, that was highly unlikely, despite how much he wanted it to happen. Deciding the other party was offline; Arthur simply shut his laptop and set it aside. He changed into his very manly unicorn print pajamas, turned off the lights, and crawled into bed, closing his eyes.

.

Right at 2:30pm the next day, Alfred was waiting for him in the library. He already had his nose buried in the book he was reading, _Heart of Darkness_, sheets of questions about the chapter to his right, pencil at the ready in his hand. Arthur was impressed, for once, by the American, surprised he could get down to work so fast. He sat across from Alfred, as usual, and opened up his laptop. There were no messages he cared to respond to, so he pulled the school-given agenda out of his backpack, looking over the assignments he had written down.

Ten questions in calculus, another essay for English, and a worksheet for environmental sciences. Right away he finished the worksheet, glancing up afterwards and watching as Alfred began to write down answers on his own worksheet.

"Do you understand the book?" Arthur asked.

"Yeah!" Alfred said, as always, unable to keep his voice down, even in a library. He snickered as Arthur raised a magnificent eyebrow at him. "It's a pretty good book, too. I don't usually like the books we have to read in school."

Arthur could have sworn his eyes rolled out of his head and down the street. Without even bothering to listen to Alfred, he could hear the typical "classics are boring" or "we should read actually good books!" everyone always spouted against classical literature. In his opinion, there was nothing wrong with a classic, and they usually entailed much better writing than any recent novels. However, he did also enjoy more recent works too, just not as much.

"But of course, you're like a dinosaur, so you _love_ books as old as you are."

"Excuse you?" Arthur snapped, his whole face turning red. "I am only three months older than you, Alfred! It's not even that big of a difference!" he hadn't even realized he had raised his own voice.

"Eugh," Alfred teased, wrinkling his nose at Arthur. "You even talk like an old person. Now, Arthur, it's okay if you don't know how your wifi works, just call me and I'll fix the problem. Lots of elderly don't understand what to do with wifi, it's a common thing."

"Alfred F. Jones!" Arthur hissed, narrowing his eyes at the other blond. "You will shut your yappy gob right this instant."

Alfred burst into raucous laughter, going so far as to slap his knees a couple of times. "The British in you is coming out the angrier you get!"

At this point, Arthur knew he had lost, so he pulled _Dracula_ out of his backpack and began reading, though he wasn't really reading it. He just wanted to look like he was doing something so he wouldn't have to talk to Alfred anymore. Said American was still laughing, wiping tears from his eyes.

Eventually, quiet returned to the library, and Arthur actually began to read. For the remainder of the afternoon it stayed that way, both boys with their noses buried in books. Arthur had never seen Alfred look so focused. It was a rather amusing sight to behold, what with his tongue just barely poking out of the corner of his mouth, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. Occasionally he stopped reading to write down an answer to a question, but right after he went back to reading.

After a while, Alfred looked up at just the right time, and caught Arthur staring at him. Arthur blushed, trying to pass it off like nothing had really happened. Really though, his heart was beating out of control and he could feel his face burning.

"Falling in love with me, Arthur?" Alfred asked coyly, one eyebrow raised and a confident but lazy grin on his face.

Arthur huffed, crossing his arms and glowering at Alfred. "Nothing of the sort. You just had a stupid look on your face. Oh wait, that was your thinking face. I didn't know you were able to think."

Alfred just laughed it off, standing up as his watch beeped five times, letting both boys know they were free to go. Arthur could not have been happier. He packed his things hastily and rushed off towards the bus stop.

"Hey, Arty!" Alfred called. Arthur groaned. "How about I give you a ride home? I mean, you always take the bus home and it takes you forever to get home, doesn't it? It's already late enough as it is. We could be at your place in no time!"

Arthur wanted to decline, but he also really loved the idea of not having to be on the city bus. Sometimes, more like all of the time, there were odd people who smelled like they hadn't showered in weeks, or girls who talked far too loudly than necessary. Another added bonus was that his friend could offer a ride for free, whereas the bus cost money.

"Why not?" Arthur said, following after Alfred to the student parking lot behind their school.

Then he realized.

Had he really just thought of Alfred Jones as his friend?

No, that was preposterous. After all, he hated Alfred Jones. He had a whole blog practically dedicated to preaching about how much he hated Alfred Jones. There was no way that idiot would ever be his friend. And without a doubt there was absolutely not even a shred of a possibility that he was falling in _love_ with such an insufferable idiot.

* * *

A/N: Although it seems sort of similar, this is not the same 'universe' as Eccentric Roommates, I will not be doing a UsUk fanfiction for that universe any time soon. I'm not even sure if I will have more than just this one fanfiction in a high school setting, I much prefer a college setting. The planned schedule so far (in terms of updates/new chapters), on a weekly basis, will be Eccentric Roommates on Thursdays, this on Fridays, and To Save You on Saturdays. Hopefully three different things all in a similar time span won't bother anyone… it's just easier for me to update on weekends.


	2. Chapter 2

It was just for one night.

Arthur kept telling himself this over and over as he cleaned his room for Alfred to come over. It was just for one night, and his blog could survive without an update for a few days. Of course, when he returned, his ask box would be busier than usual, but nothing he couldn't handle.

In the meantime, he was dilemmas of where to hide things he didn't want Alfred seeing. Alfred was generally a very polite, if a loud, guest, but Arthur didn't want to take any chances. He definitely couldn't have his book of spells and incantations be seen, or his somewhat girly pajamas. His parents bought them for him and they were comfortable and warm, so he never complained, but the last thing he needed was for everyone to know he wore unicorn, bunny and rainbow print pajamas.

Those could go in the dresser of clothes, but it was already to the point of breaking he had so many clothes. Arthur prided himself in having a wide variety of clothes, from the ones he wore to school to the ones he wore out and about. School-Arthur and out-and-about-Arthur were two very different people.

He of course had to organize all of his school supplies, he couldn't have his pupil walk into his room and see that he was an unorganized slob. The next things on the list were any sort of movies that had definite good guys and definite bad guys, the moment Alfred saw a hero movie he would lose all focus.

Alfred, however, knew that Arthur had such movies, and their study session was bound to fall to chaos anyways despite how hard Arthur tried.

"It's just for one night," he repeated to himself over and over again. "Just for one night."

.

After an hour of cleaning, Arthur decided it was good enough, and stood back to examine the change. His room always suffered quite a transformation when he had people over, even his parents would comment on it sometimes. Today though, was not one of those days. His parents had decided that if Alfred was going to be in the house, they were not.

"It's not that we dislike your friend, Arthur," his father said, "just that he can be very loud sometimes. We'll go out and see a movie and get dinner somewhere, you two can stay here and study. We've left money for pizza if you want that."

Arthur only heard the first few words his father said, but nodded anyways. For the rest of the day 'friend' traveled with him and he grumbled about it until he started to repeat his grumblings. He wasn't friends with Alfred, Alfred was practically his student.

"At least it will all look good on college and scholarship applications," Arthur said. That much was true at least.

Still, though, Arthur had nothing better to do with what little time of his Saturday he had left. He could read, or work on schoolwork, but neither of those things sounded particularly enjoyable right at that moment. His mother had invited him to go shopping to take his mind off of it, but he needed to clean his room. That however, had only taken an hour and he still had two agonizingly slow hours before him.

A few minutes later of disgruntled consideration, Arthur pulled his phone out of his pocket and contacted his least favorite person in the world.

_You could come over earlier if you wanted to, two hours is going to take forever._

He reread the message ten times, hoping it didn't sound too desperate or anything similar that would boost Alfred's ego even more. As he waited for a message he browsed through the cupboards in the kitchen, looking for something he could make or something to snack on.

_arent your parents home tho_ was Alfred's very quick response.

Arthur cringed at the bad grammar, but forced himself to deal with it. Not everyone took more than five minutes to type a text like he did.

_Yes, but as soon as they see you leave your house and head over they'll hurry out. Alfred, we're next door neighbors, my parents will hear you the instant you leave and they'll leave too._

Arthur could practically hear Alfred's laughter from the next hours over despite that being rather impossible. He found himself smiling just a little bit, his parents were practically afraid of Alfred's loud demeanor even though they claimed that they didn't mind him.

_ill head over_

Arthur felt an eyebrow twitch, and just had to correct the American.

_*I'll. And you wonder why you're failing English class._

Just a few minutes later, Alfred had entered the door, and Arthur's parents left as though the blond had the plague or something other that was just as horrible. Arthur stood awkwardly for a few minutes as Alfred looked around the house, hands on his hips, a stance rather like Peter Pan, Arthur noted.

"It's been forever since I've been at your place!" Alfred announced. "We really need to hang out more, Arthur. We literally live right next to each other. But you're boring and you take the bus instead of letting me give you a ride, and you refuse to sit next to me during class."

"That's because I would rather focus, Alfred," Arthur chided, guiding Alfred to his room, even though Alfred had the house memorized from when they were little kids.

"What did your parents leave for us to eat? They don't expect you to cook, right?"

"Alfred you shut up, I can cook just fine, thank you," Arthur snapped, turning his nose up haughtily. "They left us money for two pizzas."

"Awesome!" Alfred cheered, instantly diving onto Arthur's bed as they entered his room.

"Please refrain from making a mess right after I've cleaned," Arthur chided, settling himself on the floor by his pile of schoolbooks. "And if you wanted to study you'd better get over here now or I'll kick you out."

"Aw, Artie, c'mon," Alfred whined, stretching out on Arthur's bed. "I haven't been over since like, eighth grade, can't we do something fun first? You could kick my ass at monopoly or scrabble, I won't even complain when you use fake words."

"Excuse you," Arthur growled, furrowing his massive eyebrows at Alfred, "I have never once used a fake word when we played scrabble."

"You _so_ did," Alfred teased, his features breaking into a wide grin.

Arthur frowned, already knowing where this conversation was going, but still not wanting to lose to the childish other boy. "I did not, _you're_ the one who tried to use terms from superhero comics and movies."

"They're still real words!"

"They are not!"

"Yes they are!"

"Alfred, no they are not!"

"Yeah, well, neither is flibbygobbler or whatever the heck it was," Alfred said. "That's definitely _not_ a real word."

"It's flibbertigibbet, Alfred, and it is a real word," Arthur said coldly. So much for studying. They were only fighting over the validity of words.

Alfred gave a rather unattractive snort of disbelief, and sat up on Arthur's bed. "Then what's it mean?"

"It means a person like you, far too frivolous and talkative."

Alfred just laughed it off, and Arthur, despite trying to stay in a bad mood, smiled just a little bit. Alfred's stupid laugh had always been contagious.

.

Two hours into the afternoon and the two had actually been working the whole time. Arthur was fairly impressed with how well Alfred had been doing so far, but also suspicious. Alfred always had trouble focusing, but recently he'd been acting as though not being a completely over the top human being was normal for him. Arthur wasn't complaining about the quiet, but it was still strange to him.

Alfred was seated across from him, staring up at the ceiling in concentration as he tried to recite the poem he was meant to perform the moment they returned to that class, and Arthur was mildly proud that he'd helped him at least memorize one stanza. He hadn't even expected that of Alfred.

"How about I go order the pizza?" Arthur suggested, standing up and stretching as he did so, his muscles sore from being still for so long.

Alfred snickered, his concentration breaking at the mention of food. "Poor old man's gotta stretch every time he stands up."

Arthur, on his way to the door of his room, hit Alfred on the backside of his head. All of the way in the kitchen Arthur could hear his obnoxious laughter. He ordered the two pizzas, a plain cheese one for him and a meat-lover's one for Alfred, and then got out the plates and other such things. Alfred would complain that he didn't need a plate and could just eat straight from the box, Arthur would scold him for even risking a mess, and the argument would continue in circles until finally one of them(usually Arthur) gave in.

The Englishman curled his nose, slightly upset with himself that he knew Alfred's pizza order by heart and could predict exactly how their bickering would go.

"We're like an old married couple," he muttered, looking through the fridge for some sort of carbonated drink for Alfred.

"That's funny, I was thinking the same thing a couple days ago!" Alfred announced. Arthur's heart leapt out of his chest, and he nearly collapsed from shock. "Oh, shit, Artie, I didn't mean to startle you...!" Alfred said, rushing forward to Arthur's side.

Arthur clung to Alfred's shoulder, glaring at him the whole while with an impressive frown on his face. "Alfred F. Jones your loud voice is not exactly the best way to break a silence."

Alfred laughed, and Arthur found himself, once again, smiling along. He finally detached himself from the school's star football player, and then righted himself. "You're lucky I don't kick you out of my house right now," Arthur said.

"C'mon, Arthur, we both know you wouldn't do that or else you'd have to go to my house on your own to give me my pizza," Alfred said, a shit-eating grin plastered onto his face. "Besides, we haven't even watched a single movie yet!"

"Alfred, you came here to study, not to watch movies," Arthur chastised, pulling an old bottle of sprite out of the fridge and handing it to Alfred. "You can have all of that, by the way, no one here drinks it."

Alfred grinned, and snatched the soda from Arthur. "Awesome. But seriously, Arthur, we need to watch a movie. What if we watched a James Bond movie?"

Arthur considered it for a moment, and then shook his head. "No, Alfred, there will be no movie watching while we're meant to be studying.

.

Four hours later, though, both Arthur and Alfred were on their last slices of pizza, and Arthur's parents were safely tucked away in their room, far from obnoxious teenagers on their second movie. They'd watched a James Bond movie first, and then Alfred begged and begged to watch _The Avengers_, so that's what they were watching now. They were almost at the end of it, and both boys were having a dilemma.

"You said we would watch James Bond movies," Arthur said.

"I said we would watch _a_ James Bond movie, and you're so great at English class, you should know that only means one," Alfred retorted.

Arthur grumbled to himself, sitting up from his relaxed position and raising an eyebrow at Alfred. "Let's just trade the movies every other time."

"That's _boring_, Arthur," Alfred whined. Arthur curled his nose, Alfred was being more childish than usual. "Why don't we play rock, paper, scissors?"

"Alfred, why in the world would I play rock, paper, scissors over a movie?"

"Because that's how we always used to do things when we were little!"

"And you always won and got me into trouble!"

Alfred laughed, putting his hands together in a begging motion. "Pleeeeeaaase, Artie! When was the last time we acted like little kids? Besides, trouble or not you always enjoyed yourself!"

Eventually, Arthur had to give in, or deal with Alfred being a whiny brat for the rest of the night. And in the end, they watched another Avengers-themed movie.

.

Alfred, completely invested in the movie the whole time, hadn't noticed Arthur had fallen asleep until there was a quiet part in the movie. He glanced over at the Brit to talk, but stayed silent when he noticed his friends' forest green eyes were peacefully closed. His chest was shallowly rising and falling, and he was very softly snoring. If it hadn't been such a cute sight, Alfred would have lost his shit.

Since the beginning of high school, Arthur had unexpectedly, and for no reason at all, become an aggressive porcupine. Alfred wasn't really sure if it was his fault or just the stress from school, but he really wished they could be better friends like when they were younger. He'd been so interested in the British boy who had just moved to America he could hardly cope with his curiosity.

Sure, Arthur liked to read books and stay inside all day long, but that didn't stop them from being best friends the moment they had met. In over five years, Arthur still hadn't changed much, aside from being bossier than he was when he was little. But Alfred didn't mind all that much, those were things that made Arthur who he was.

As quietly as he could, Alfred stood and walked to Arthur's room. He grabbed the older boy's blanket and returned to the living room shortly after, covering Arthur with the blanket. He immediately snuggled into it just like a little kid, and Alfred grinned. The American flopped back onto he couch he had claimed for himself, and resumed watching the movie.

.

Arthur woke up to the smell of his mother making breakfast for everyone, and slowly sat up. He'd completely forgotten about Alfred until he heard his stupid snickering, and Arthur shot him a glare. Alfred had obviously been awake for a while, his hair and teeth were brushed, and he was already in a clean change of clothes.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Alfred said, very clearly holding back hysterical laughter. Arthur had no idea what was so funny, but it was really starting to get on his nerves.

He stood, stretched, and ignored an 'old man' comment from Alfred, knowing if he paid it any mind he would just be fanning the flames. Arthur stumbled to his bathroom, and went to grab his toothbrush and toothpaste. That is, until he saw himself in the mirror. His eyes widened to impossible sizes and his jaw dropped.

"Alfred!" he hollered. "I'm going to fucking kill you!"

Alfred, by then, was already out of the front door and tearing across the lawns back to the safety of his house. Sure, Arthur had been cute when he'd fallen asleep, but he'd still been the first to fall asleep. And with a sharpie sitting so innocently on the coffee table, Alfred just hadn't been able to resist.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur couldn't remember for the life of him when he had last been so bored. Neither could he remember the last time he had had a migraine as bad as the one he was suffering from now. All around him was a pounding blur of noise that all faded into one constant screaming.

"How the fuck did I end up in this situation," he snarled to himself, knowing that no one else would hear him. "Fucking Alfred."

_"Pleeeaase, Arthur! I'm begging you!" Alfred insisted, grabbing on the edges of Arthur's pristine green sweater vest. "Just for one night, do something that isn't boring! It's Friday, come to a game, and go to the after party. I promise, it'll be fun!"_

"Fun for who?" Arthur snarled, glowering darkly at all of the teenagers around him. Sure, all of them seemed to be having a marvelous time, but all of the obnoxious energy was putting a dampener on his mood, even more so than usual. He didn't even know how American football was _played_. Alfred had tried time after time to explain it, but no matter how often he was told it made about as much sense as the first time. And the first time had made no sense whatsoever.

All he knew was that the goal was to get the ball from one side of the field to the other, but that seemed a fairly generic sports goal. Alfred, he assumed, played some sort of important role in the game, but he couldn't remember what. He didn't even want to start _considering_ the situation with yards and feet.

"Stupid American measurement system, stupid American sports, stupid American people, stupid American _boys_," Arthur hissed. He didn't even know where Alfred was anymore in the crowd of other players, they all looked the same from up in the bleachers.

"Aren't you Alfred's friend?" Arthur heard.

He turned, disinterest unable to be more clearly expressed on his features. Friend. Everyone used that stupid word to describe them. The girl was giving him a wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights look. Arthur raised his eyebrows at the girl, hoping she would realize he really was not in the mood.

She breathed in deeply for a moment, and Arthur instantly feared for the well-being of his ears and of his migraine.

"Aren't you Alfred's friend!" she repeated, screeching like a harpy.

Arthur forced a smile. "I wouldn't say friend," he said, just loud enough to be heard. "What's it matter?"

"Oh, well, if you're not friends then nevermind!" she, once again, screeched. Suddenly his migraine was ten times worse. Using her harpy voice the whole time, she returned her attention to the game, wailing and screaming random players' named.

"For fuck's sake," Arthur grumbled. "Am I even obligated to stay at this point?" He made to stand, but some over enthusiastic, pizza faces behind him pulled him back down to his seat.

"You can't get up yet, loser."

He was forced back down into the sticky bleacher seat. Some idiot had probably spilled coke on it once and an underpaid janitorial staff definitely wasn't going to bother with cleaning that up. Or perhaps it was something worse. He felt his stomach churn at the thought of it.

"Great fucking insult," Arthur grumbled, intent on staying in a bad mood the whole time. Honestly, the screeching girls and acne covered assholes weren't making it such a difficult task. There was no reason he had to stay. "Stupid American everything," he growled. The last thing he needed were these assholes, they'd already decided earlier in the game that his shoulders made for choice foot rests.

"How long do these usually take?" he asked the person to his right. She seemed fairly calm for the whole situation, and Arthur recognized her from a few classes. A small, complacent smile was on her face as she turned to Arthur.

"Hm," she said quietly, Arthur could barely hear her. "I'm not really sure." She turned back to watching the game, and Arthur was flooded with awkwardness. He too started watching the game again.

He dreaded being here with a passion, and he still hated Alfred for convincing him to go along. The seats were hard and uncomfortable, with no backs to them at all. _No wonder no one in this school has decent posture_, Arthur thought. Alfred hadn't even allowed him to bring his laptop, not that he would want to bring such an expensive piece of technology to such roughhousing and screaming, but it would have been better than nothing.

His phone was off in his pocket, as he wanted to conserve its battery for when his shit luck became even worse and he was forced into another over-the-top social situation. A party. That was just what he needed. But the party would only be thrown if their team won. So far, their team was winning. They had almost double the other team's score.

Arthur supposed if their school won this game, he could say he attended a momentous time in their school's history. For the past three years they had been on a dreadful losing streak, and only when Alfred joined the team did they begin to win again. _Just what he needs, something else to inflate his ego_.

"I don't like football," the girl to his right said.

Arthur jumped, a hand instinctively clutching his chest. He was about to ask her why she was even there, but she started speaking, well, more whispering, again.

"Lili. My name is Lili," she turned to Arthur and gave him a bit more of a smile.

Arthur nodded, giving a small smile back. She was nice, but she seemed odd. "If you don't like football then why are you here?" he asked,

"My brother's crush's crush is playing."

He didn't even know how to respond to that, it was quite the situation. "And you're here to watch your brother's crush's _crush_ play?"

"Mm-hmm," Lili hummed, looking back to the players on the field. Arthur just nodded.

At least now he had someone to talk to and distract him from all of the noise assaulting his ears. "What _do_ you like? Personally, I would rather be home reading or typing."

"Oh I like hunting," Lili said. "My brother and I go every year, it's a lot of fun."

"I hadn't pegged you for the type of person who could handle guns, you seem so sweet and innocent. That's not an insult or anything, you're just very nice," Arthur said.

Lili nodded. "That's what most people think. I don't mind, really. What sort of things do you read?"

"Anything that catches my attention, really. However, I am a sucker for classic novels and fantasy, and I'm not much for romance novels," Arthur said. "Who is your brother?"

"If I told you that, you would know the other two I'm talking about, so it's best if I didn't say anything."

"I can respect that," Arthur mused. The two went back to watching the football game, occasionally quietly speaking to each other.

Ninety minutes later, and nearly the whole audience went ballistic. People were jumping up and down in their seats, flailing wildly and screaming even louder than before, a chant of "Alfred" had begun somewhere in the front of the bleachers. Arthur didn't join in all of the noise-making and excitement, aside from standing up. The last thing he needed was to stick out even more than usual.

"Does this mean we've won?" he asked Lili.

"I suppose so!" she said, a bright smile on her face. "I have to go find my brother now, I'll see you some other time, Arthur!"

He vaguely wondered if he'd given Lili his name, but decided quickly it didn't matter. Due to this overwhelming success of their school, it meant Arthur was going to be dragged to a party and there was nothing he could do about it. There was absolutely no doubt that Alfred was going to let him get out of it.

Down on the field, he caught sight of a certain stupid American boy waving at him. But there was no way that Alfred had spotted him from down in the field. Instead of waving back, Arthur began the overcrowded and far-too-noisy trek to Alfred's truck parked around the back of the student lot.

Only thirty, rather chilly, minutes later, Alfred was lightly jogging up to his truck, waving at Arthur.

"Hey, Artie!" he shouted, despite being within talking distance. "Did you see that! We totally kicked their asses!"

"Yes, I certainly saw that," Arthur said. "And this means we'll be going to some football ass's house where there will be cheap booze, tacky girls, and dull entertainment."

Alfred laughed loudly, smacking Arthur's shoulder when he got close enough. "Aw, Arthur, don't think like that! It's totally a bummer when you act so moody!"

"I'm always like this, Alfred, you had better get used to it."

The taller blond continued to laugh horribly loudly even as the two of them got into the white vehicle. "I could drop you off at your house if you wanted me to," Alfred said after a few moments.

"While I would much rather be in the company of people ten thousand miles from me in the safe seclusion of my room, I suppose I must go or I'll hurt your poor, pathetic feelings," Arthur sighed. He couldn't believe he was turning down a chance of escape. The overbearing excitement from the game must have made his brain fuzzy.

"Yes!" Alfred cheered, making a 'score!' motion with his arm. "You'll have fun, Arthur, I promise! It's a Friday night and we have a three day weekend, you're supposed to be stupid on nights like this!"

"I refuse to ever lower my intelligence just because of the circumstances of the hour," Arthur quipped. Alfred laughed loudly, pulling out of the student parking lot.

"Arthur, you're no fun when you talk like that."

"Why? Because your pea brain has a difficult time understanding me?" Arthur asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Nah, I've got my own personal Arthur-to-English dictionary by now, I've known you since we were eleven, it's impossible not to. It just sucks when you're in a bad mood to be in a bad mood, y'know?" Alfred explained.

"No, I don't know, really. And I have no idea what you're talking about Alfred, I am never 'in a bad mood to be in a bad mood'."

"You're doing it right now!" Alfred said, grinning at Arthur.

"I am not!" Arthur's face was starting to heat up, he couldn't tell if it was from his rising anger or from what he'd said a week ago. _We're like an old married couple_. And Alfred had agreed with him! He'd never been more mortified in his entire life.

Barely five minutes had passed before Alfred grew sick of the silence, and flicked on the radio. At first, Arthur thought, his singing was rather nice. It was some country song that he didn't recognize, and he didn't particularly like it, but the music could have been a lot worse. However, that all changed when the song ended and another began playing. Anyone who was alive could have recognized those four chords anywhere.

"Alfred," Arthur gave Alfred his most pleading look, "please don't. Spare me." Alfred was too busy giving him a wicked grin to hear anything he was saying.

"_Just a small town girl_!" Already his voice was cracking and far too out of key to even be recognizable.

"Christ, Alfred, please shut up now," Arthur begged. He only hoped that they would arrive at their destination before the chorus of the song started playing.

"_Living in a lonely world_!" It was quite literally the worst singing Arthur had ever heard in his life. "C'mon, Artie, sing with me! It's fun!"

"I don't possibly see how it could be any fun! The song is overrated, overdone, and it's not even that great!"

"Arthur!" Alfred cried, putting a hand over his heart. "You wound me!"

"I don't care, Alfred, your singing is horrible!" Arthur was finding it harder and harder not to break into the same idiotic grin Alfred was bearing. He had sworn he would be in a bad mood for the rest of the night. _I guess Alfred knows me better than I do_, Arthur briefly thought, before the singing started again.

"_Some were born to sing the blues_!" He was wailing out every single word that was held for longer than one beat, and Arthur wouldn't have been surprised if his ears started bleeding.

"Alfred, for fuck's sake, shut up!"

"Not until you join me and you're in a better mood!" Alfred yelled as he turned up the music. At the same time, he rolled down the truck windows, and began wailing like an injured cat out of the window at all passers by. Arthur tried to bury himself into the collar of his sweater, his face and neck beet red. "_Their shadows searching, in the NIIIIIIIIIIGHT!_"

Arthur physically winced, but began laughing in spite of himself. Alfred soon joined him, but took up singing again.

"Artie, c'mon, it's the best damn part of the whole song! Sing with me!"

"Alfred, I'm not going to be doing any singing!"

"_Don't stop believing!_" Alfred was still wailing at the top of his lungs. "_Hold on to that feeling!_" He was missing every note, but Arthur found himself unable to control his laughter. "_Streetlight, people_!" Eventually, Arthur succumbed.

"_Don't stop believing_!" they howled.

Arthur hadn't had so much fun with Alfred in years.

That was, until they got to the party. The moment they entered the front door, Arthur felt like an old, ugly coat that was tossed to the side. Alfred immediately found his shallow group of shallow friends that were already blind drunk off of the cheap booze. The house smelled rank, like uncleaned vomit and cat piss and sweaty teenagers.

Arthur kept to himself in a corner, he didn't want anything to do with any of these people. He kept his eyes down and his arms crossed, hoping that he looked like someone who was not enjoying themselves, but also someone who was not to be approached. Clad in a green sweater vest and too-loose jeans, though, he just looked like a lost freshman. His mother always scolded him for his fashion choices, but that was something that never mattered to him. All he needed to do was do well in school and he could be happy.

"You're Alfred's tutor right?" some probably-asshole guy asked, stepping closer to Arthur. "That's cool man, here, have a beer."

Arthur forced a smile, making very brief eye contact. "I don't drink, thanks."

"Wow, a class A bookworm!" some other definitely-asshole who overheard them interrupted. "What do you mean you don't drink?"

"I just don't," Arthur snarled. He shoved his way through the crowd to the other side of the room. It was warm, too warm, and it was becoming a bit hard to breathe. So many stinky teenagers were not meant to be shoved into such a small area together. He fumbled for the backdoor, finding an escape in the yard. He stood and breathed for a few moments, before reentering the party.

The two assholes from earlier were where he had left them, but were now surrounded by girls. They all laughed and giggled and pointed when they saw Arthur. He felt his ears heating up, but instead of being embarrassed and walking away, he gave the small crowd a very polite middle finger, and then walked away.

"What else was I supposed to expect from a party of douchebags and football players?" he grumbled.

There was no one he distinctly recognized, only faces he saw in passing in the halls. Alfred was no were to be seen, and Arthur cursed his name for ditching him.

"Fucking asshole, leaving me all alone. 'You'll have fun!'," he said, doing his best impression of the American. "'Sing with me, Arthur!'. Yeah well, fuck your singing, Alfred Jones." He had returned to his normal, grumpy mood.

Other students, every so often, attempted to make conversation with him, but he brushed past them. None of these people were worth his time. All he wanted to do was maybe find a book or a computer and settle himself for the next few hours, or however long the party lasted. He doubted that would happen though.

"Have you seen Alfred?" he asked someone.

"Why?" they snapped. "Miss your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend," Arthur growled, shoving the person. He didn't even bother to notice who they were. He asked a few more people, but everyone gave them the same response. "How hard can it be to lose someone like Alfred?" he grumbled to himself, shouldering his way through the crowds. All of the people were starting to get to him again, and if he didn't find Alfred soon he would have to step outside again.

Intense cheering from the main room of the house drew his attention and he worked his way through the sweaty bodies. He could only assume Alfred was doing something stupid again. People were in a tight ring around the center of the room, screaming and hooting. Some people were waving their arms wildly in the air, splashing beer every which way, some of it splashing on Arthur. He scoffed and wiped it off of his face. Despite all of the ruckus, he was still curious as to what was happening, and there was no doubt it was Alfred's fault. Only the most popular asshole in school could be getting this much attention at a party.

He elbowed and shoved and pushed with all of his might through to the center of the crowd. The sight he was met with made time stop. Everything around him slowed down, and the noise of the people around him faded into one loud chunk of white noise. His pulse thrummed all throughout him, getting faster by the second. He could barely even remember how to breathe.

The girl from earlier at the football game with her harpy voice and her eye shadow up to her eyebrows and her lipstick as bright fucking pink as possible had her arms thrown around Alfred's neck. Her lips were pressed against, but it looked more like they were eating, Alfred's mouth. Alfred was in no way denying or rejecting her actions, and Arthur's whole world collapsed around him.

Suddenly, time sped up to twice as fast as normal. Arthur felt like he was going to vomit, and the backs of his eyes were burning. He shoved his way through the crowd again, not minding if he stamped on toes, or elbowed someone in the gut. He really needed to escape before everyone saw his reaction. It was doubtful that anyone noticed, but he couldn't take that risk.

When he finally escaped, he tumbled forward, having lost all of his balance from the lack of resistance. His legs turned to jelly beneath him, and his chin had probably started to bleed from the impact to the ground, but he got outside. Feeling like he had no control over himself, he barely made it to the driveway of the house before collapsing. Arthur scrabbled for his phone, and managed to dial without it slipping through his fingers. One ring later, and he had an answer.

"Arthur, do you even realize how late it is? It's nearly midnight!"

"Is it really...?" Arthur asked, his voice as calm as ever. Only then did he allow himself to cry, even though he was trying his hardest not to.

"Arthur, Arthur, what's happening? What's wrong?"

"Francis," Arthur whined, feeling pathetic and sorry for himself. First he was crying over Alfred and now he was calling Francis. He'd never had a worse day in his life. "I just, I need a ride..."

"Arthur, okay, where are you, _cher_? I'll head over as soon as I can. Are you alright?"

"I'm at some party, some stupid American football woohoo-we-won party, I don't really know where," Arthur responded, wiping at his eyes and hoping Francis couldn't hear the quiver in his voice.

"I know where you are Arthur, just calm down, okay, Eyebrows?"

Arthur didn't even have it in himself to call Francis a frog or snap at him for the Eyebrows comment. "Thank you," he muttered. He didn't even wait for Francis' response when he hung up the phone, and closed his eyes. "Alfred, you are the fucking worst," he said, his words choked out.

* * *

A/N: Ahah I just barely got this chapter up in time. I was really slacking today and ah poor Arthur no Alfred for you for a couple chapters yet. I mean c'mon, I had to ruin the happiness of the singing with something shitty like that. Also the singing was pretty much improvisation, I just needed something to take up more words so it wouldn't be a hideously short chapter, and that's what I came up with.


	4. Chapter 4

"Arthur, _cher_, you must calm down," Francis said, rubbing soft circles on Arthur's back. Arthur wasn't ashamed to say he'd been crying the whole damn night, but he wouldn't have allowed himself to be this emotional if it were anyone but Francis. "You have barely told me what the problem is, I only know it was about Alfred."

Just hearing his name sent Arthur into another uncontrollable wave of sobs. "Francis, you fuckhole, don't talk about him, just shut up."

"I'm afraid that's not something I can do, Arthur," Francis said with a soft sigh. He was used to Arthur's freak outs and breakdowns, they were far from news to him. "Just calm down and tell me what happened."

"I don't fucking want to, I'll get over it," Arthur snapped.

Francis rolled his azure eyes, finally having drawn the line. "Arthur, get over your emotional self and tell me what happened. If you don't, I might as well kick you out onto the street and let you get over it by yourself. How am I supposed to help you with your petty troubles if you don't tell me what your petty troubles are?"

"It's not a petty trouble this time!"

Francis raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Fine, I'll tell you, you stupid frog," he hissed.

"Ah," Francis sighed, back to smiling again, "there is the pissy Eyebrows I know."

Arthur curled his nose, glowering at the Frenchman seated to his left. "Oh piss off, wine breath."

"I'll have you know, Arthur, I do not drink while we are in school or I would be kicked out."

"I'm amazed you have any restraint at all, Francis," Arthur huffed raising his eyebrows. "It's quite a shocking trait for someone like _you_."

"Someone like _me_?" Francis asked. "I'll have you know, Arthur, that you called me close to midnight from across town, sobbing like a maniac and asking for a ride, I could barely understand you. When I got there I expected you to be piss drunk or beaten to a pulp but there you are sitting in the driveway like a lost puppy. I help you into my car as if you were drunk, and you sob the whole way back to my house, the whole way to my room, and through the whole night. It is now eight in the morning, you have yet to tell me what is wrong, I have work in three hours, and I have every right to punch you after all of that," he said. Arthur felt shame wash through him, but Francis continued. "Yet here I am, I made you lavender chamomile tea, I will soon be making you breakfast, and I am sitting here patting your back, all because I care for you. Do not talk to me about restraint."

Arthur groaned and rolled his bright, yet exhausted, green eyes. "Thank you for the monologue, it was appreciated."

"Now tell me Arthur, what happened with Alfred?"

Groaning again, but giving in, Arthur gave a small nod. "I won't even bother with all of the bullshit, you know I... like him," Francis interrupted him with a short, knowing 'hm', "but I haven't exactly been honest with it or with him. We were at that stupid fucking party and he started snogging with some girl, I don't even know her name! I doubt he did either! I was just so upset, I couldn't even think straight."

Francis gave a long sigh, and shook his head.

"What's your problem, frog!?" Arthur snapped, instantly getting defensive.

"Arthur, this is most certainly a petty trouble that I didn't really care to hear, but I suppose now the damage is done. At least you finally admitted your feelings for him," Francis said.

"This is nothing like anything else I've ever told you about!" Arthur snapped.

"Oh, Arthur, but it is," Francis responded calmly with a small smile. "What was the last problem, you got a B on a test you studied for all night?"

"Of course I was upset about that, I studied all night!"

"Well, yes, Arthur, but your lack of sleep caused the lower grade. Really, _cher_, all of your problems are easily solved, it's ridiculous."

Arthur was indignant, he'd never heard something so ludicrous in his life. "Well then how would you solve this problem, ever wise frog?"

"Arthur, there isn't even a problem. Does Alfred know about your feelings?"

"Well, no, but I don't see why this matters!"

"Arthur, Alfred has no idea what you feel for him, is this correct?"

"I just fucking said that!" Arthur snapped.

Francis sighed, finally standing up and stretching, sore from sitting for so many hours. "Arthur, if Alfred has no idea how you feel, why should he cater to those feelings he has no idea about?" With that, Francis left his room and went to the kitchen, getting everything ready to make breakfast.

Arthur sat stupidly for a few minutes before collecting himself. "That's nonsense! I never said anything like that!" The anger boiling in his stomach cooled as he thought more, and eventually he felt like rolling over and never getting back up."He's fucking right, that bastard is always right, he's the damned worst... Damn it, Alfred..."

.

The worst part about Alfred's new relationship with Penny was that she followed him everywhere like a duckling. She sat in on their tutoring sessions, and stole Arthur's job from him most days, even though he wasn't much of a tutor to Alfred and just sat there.

From across the cafeteria during lunch Arthur could see the two of them sharing lunch. She sat unnecessarily close to him at all times possible. She batted her made-up eyes and puckered her fuscia lips and grinned with her too-white teeth. Everything about her seemed so unreal, like a porcelain doll. It was unnerving.

"Arthur, are you even paying attention?"

Penny was suddenly in his face, snapping her fingers with candy apple fingernails. He brushed her hand aside, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What am I meant to be paying attention to?" he asked, tone and words sharp.

She gave him a look, clearly questioning his bad attitude without saying anything about it. "Alfred, you're his tutor."

"Penny, it's okay, he spaces out," Alfred said, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder and smiling at her. Penny huffed and rolled her eyes, but left the situation alone.

"What don't you get?" Arthur sighed, standing and going over to Alfred's side of the table.

"Well, here it says that I have to identify why this character went through all of these actions and how it relates to the main plot."

Arthur nodded. After that, he didn't hear a word. He just glowered at the back of Penny's head as she played games on her iphone. He couldn't understand why Alfred liked her, but as he thought about it, it made more sense. Alfred considered him as a long-time friend, and nothing more. It was silly of him to think the star quarterback or whatever he was with his perfect good looks and his befuddlingly charming attitude would be another other than straight as a rail.

"So what do you think?" Alfred asked.

Arthur blanched. He hadn't chosen the best point in time to space out, but there was no time like the present to fix such a problem. "I think that you're over analyzing the character and his actions, try to stand back from the English teacher's point of view and try to see it how Alfred would see it. I guarantee you'll think of something."

Alfred beamed at Arthur. "Thanks!"

Penny glared.

Even as Arthur sat back down her hazel eyes were still locked onto him. His phone buzzed a few seconds later in his pocket.

_Nice bullshit_

Arthur moved his gaze from the brightness of his phone to Penny. She had one eyebrow raised.

_How did you get my number?_

_ Alfred gave it to me_

_ Of course he did. Please just leave me alone._

Arthur never had it in himself to be rude to a girl, he always had to act like a gentleman. Even if the situation before him made him want to scream and throw things like a child. He would never stoop to doing something like that.

Penny didn't text him back, and Arthur was infinitely thankful for that. The last thing he needed was his current one-way arch nemesis to continue pestering him. Honestly, Penny was a nice girl, she just happened to be in the right place at the wrong moment.

"So, Arthur, where did you vanish to on Friday? You had me really worried," Alfred said, setting his pencil down.

Arthur frowned. He couldn't just say he'd seen Alfred shoving his tongue down Penny's throat, and from there started crying like a child and ran to the safety of Francis and his familiarity. "It was late and I was ready to go. You obviously were not, so I called Francis."

"I thought you hated him?" Penny asked. "I thought he went to that stuffy private school?"

"He does," Alfred said. "But they're family friends."

"I wouldn't say family friends," Arthur said. "More like my mother knew his mother's sister and my mother and his mother both had children around the same time and they decided it would be a great idea for both of us to grow up together. It was torture."

"But you don't complain about him as much as you complain about your cousins," Alfred stated with a snicker.

Arthur rolled his eyes dramatically. "Don't bring them into this, I get enough of them already."

"I didn't know you had cousins," Penny said.

"Many of them," Arthur growled, "nearly everyone in my family has three hundred children."

"Why were your parents different?" she asked.

"My mother realized how much of a shit I was, and knew how horrible my cousins were, so she decided against it."

Penny and Alfred both laughed, even though Alfred had heard the story hundreds of times before. Arthur caught himself smiling a little bit, but then forced it back into his usual frown. He couldn't let either of them know he was starting to enjoy himself. Of course it was only because he was talking about himself, but a smile was a smile.

Arthur, deciding to turn the conversation around, rested his chin in his palm nonchalant. "Have you told Penny about Matthew?" he asked.

"Who's Matthew?" Penny asked, turning her curious hazel eyes to Alfred.

"He's my step-brother, and he's home schooled so I tend to just forget about him."

Penny laughed. "Alfred, you're horrible..." she said softly with a smile. She began to lean towards Alfred, her eyes fluttering shut.

"So I'm told," Alfred responded, his voice low like hers. He leaned forward as well, eyes closed as he pulled her into a sweet kiss.

Arthur physically recoiled, and the pit of his stomach felt tight, like the feeling before getting sick. He stood and packed up his things. The couple separated from their kiss when they noticed him, and Alfred nervously laughed.

"Artie, I'm sorry, I just forgot you were there."

"That's fine," Arthur snapped, tossing one strap of his backpack over his shoulder, "I need to leave early anyways."

He didn't even know what time it was, but he doubted that it was the end of their study session. All that mattered was getting out of that library with those two and getting to the bus and then going home where he would be safe from Alfred and Penny and their kissing and their relationship. Already, he could feel the burning at the back of his eyes and it was becoming harder to breathe evenly.

"You don't care," he said, his voice breaking. "You don't care." He was hoping the words would harden his heart. "You don't care," he snapped, his eyebrows furrowed as he angrily planted his feet on the concrete sidewalk at the bus stop.

* * *

A/N: Mm short chapter is short I apologize.


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur scoured the cabinets in his kitchen for everything he and Alfred would need. Flour was a must, along with baking powder and sugar. Did cakes require vanilla extract? Or was that just cookies? He couldn't remember for the life of him. You would think that after five years of making cakes from scratch twice a year he would have the recipe memorized. He didn't even know why he was bothering with getting out the ingredients.

Certainly Alfred would be too busy with Penny to bother with a tradition. But it was a tradition, one that Alfred dogged him about year after year after year, it wasn't something he could just cancel on because he got a girlfriend.

His phone on the counter, though, hadn't gotten a text all day from the American, even after he had sent him his usual Happy Birthday message. It was strange and unusual for Alfred, but his birthday was on a Saturday, so he had probably stayed up the whole Friday night, doing some stupid football thing or other.

It was tempting to search a recipe, but as much as he denied it, it was incredible fun to fuck up horribly every year. Only when Arthur turned thirteen did the two of them manage to make something that resembled a cake, but it was unbaked in the center. They put it back into the oven and turned the temperature higher, but ten minutes later black smoke was pouring out of the oven.

Arthur found himself smiling without thinking about it, the memory something very dear to him, despite how much he tried to convince himself he hated Alfred. At this point, he had accepted that that wasn't how he really felt, but it was easier to keep up the facade.

His phone lit up, and within an instant he was answering it.

"Alfred, I can't remember shit about what cakes need, I feel like it's been so long since we made the cake for my birthday, but it's only been a few months now," he said.

"Arthur."

He ignored Alfred and continued speaking. "I've got the flour and the sugar, the baking whatever-it-is, do cakes need milk or water?"

"Arthur, please stop for a few minutes," Alfred said.

Arthur couldn't be bothered, whatever the other boy had to say could wait. "What temperature do we usually set the oven to? Would somewhere around four hundred be okay?"

"Arthur, stop it,"Alfred snapped. Arthur instantly fell silent, it was strange to hear him sound so angry. Alfred groaned, Arthur could see him rubbing his face in an exhausted way. "Arthur I can't make it."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, his voice small. He could feel his heart practically tearing in two.

"I'm hanging out with Penny today, we're going to see a movie, we'll make a cake next year," Alfred said.

Arthur's fingers gripped his phone so tightly he thought he was going to break it. "Alfred, this is tradition. You're a stereotypical American, you're all about tradition! You can't just _not_!"

"Arthur, no," Alfred said, his voice crisp again. "Ever since I started dating Penny you've been mean, and you haven't been fun to be around. I know you're a naturally grumpy person, but you've taken it to another extreme. I figured maybe some time away from each other would be best." Arthur couldn't hink of anything to say to that. What was he _supposed_ to say to that? Was that really what Alfred thought of him? "Arthur, are you there...?" he asked after the silence stretched on for far too long.

"Yes," Arthur said. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

Alfred ended the call, and all Arthur wanted to do was scream and throw his phone across the room. He knew it was immature, but Alfred was cancelling on a five year tradition they had. He'd even gotten everything set out and prepared, despite not having some of the ingredients.

Instead of throwing a fit, he dialed Francis' number, waiting just a few short rings before he answered.

"Arthur, please, if you're calling me on Alfred's birthday something must have happened, but honestly I don't care to know," he said.

Arthur curled his nose. "Listen here, frog, I've got ingredients to make a cake and Alfred flaked out so you're taking his place."

"As your unrequited love or as someone to poison with your so-called cakes?"

"If you keep up that attitude I really will poison you," Arthur snarled, "just get over here and help me make this piece of shit. You can't make it good, the point is for it to be horrible."

Francis groaned, most likely throwing a forearm over his eyes dramatically. "Arthur, _cher_, I am a chef, you know this. I attend a private school dedicated to furthering my culinary skills, there is no possible way I could ever make something horrible, but especially not on purpose. Why not, instead of wasting your already limited talents, we teach you how to actually cook?"

"I'll still do something wrong," Arthur said, "even if it's on purpose just so I can tarnish your reputation."

Francis laughed on the other end of the line. "Arthur, _cher_, I am not so famous to have a reputation. Only the people in my school and yourself really know about me. I would not call that a reputation to ruin."

"It would still be fun to see you screaming because of a ruined cake," Arthur said. "Besides, my parents planned to be gone for the whole weekend for Alfred, you might as well come over and make use of it."

"Arthur, next time you should pick your words more carefully, you sound as though you want me to have sex with you."

Arthur was stuttering and blushing within a matter of seconds. "Francis, don't you dare say things like that!"

Francis laughed. "I am only joking, please learn to take things less seriously, Arthur. I will be there in a few minutes. While you wait for me take four eggs, milk and butter out of your fridge."

"Cakes need all of those things?" Arthur asked.

"You have to be joking," Francis groaned. "No wonder you and Alfred always come down with mysterious cases of food poisoning every year."

Arthur snorted and rolled his eyes, ending the call with Francis without saying any sort of goodbye. However much he wanted to not listen to what he had said, Arthur took out all of the ingredients Francis had said and set them onto the counter next to the things he had already taken out.

.

"Arthur, that's stirring, not whisking."

"I'm doing exactly what you showed me!" Arthur snapped. He was furiously whisking together eggs, milk and vanilla.

"No, Arthur, like this." Francis snatched the bowl from Arthur and completed the task himself. The point of baking something correctly had been to teach Arthur, but really it ended with Francis doing everything for him. "Stirring is moving your whole arm, whisking is just in the wrist," he said.

Arthur groaned loudly and rolled his eyes, going over to the other side of his kitchen and watching Francis with an angry pout all over his face. Francis looked at him over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised.

"Stop being a shit, Arthur, and do something useful with yourself. Perhaps measure out the flour, I'm certain you can add properly."

Arthur was steaming furious, but he snatched the bag of flour and started to measure it out painstakingly into another bowl. Francis kept an eye on him as he did so, hovering closer than he needed to.

"Hopefully you know what one half added to one half is," Francis said.

"Of course I do!" Arthur had just about had enough as he continued to measure flour.

"Hm," Francis hummed quietly, falling silent after that and watching Arthur. "I'm not convinced you read the recipe either, Arthur. It calls for two and a half cups of flour, not four. Measure out the extra."

He set down the bowl of things he had been whisking, and then went to the other ingredients that needed to be measured. Arthur could have punched him, he was being obnoxiously pretentious, even for him.

"Is this how you always are in a kitchen?" Arthur growled.

Francis shook his head, finishing scooping out whatever it was he was measuring. "No, only when you're here. You're far too sulky for your own good, you know it will give you wrinkles, don't you?"

Arthur didn't respond, instead glancing from the back of Francis' head to the one-half-cup-ful of flour he had. The urge was far too tempting, but knowing Francis he would be murdered for wasting perfectly good cooking ingredients.

"Where's your baking soda, _cher_?"

"You put _soda_ in cakes?"

"Arthur, please, it's a leavening agent. It's similar to baking powder. Try to use your brain once in a while. Sometimes I wonder how you are the tutor and Alfred isn't."

Arthur whipped around to stare at Francis, who was all too obviously avoiding eye contact. "I don't remember telling you about that," he said.

"Well, Arthur, maybe you should be less transparent on the internet," Francis said, punctuating each word. Arthur's stomach sank to his feet. "After all, how many British boys from Bristol are living in America with horribly American study partners who just so happen to be dating a girl he had never met until then. And how many of those boys are complaining about how horrible their lives are, even though really they are surrounded by amazing people and friends but they're just being too stubborn to see it?"

Francis went back to whatever he was doing, but Arthur was frozen. How long did Francis know? How was he ever supposed to stay active with his blog now? How many other people knew about it Certainly Francis' friends did, he was the kind of person to tell everyone about everything, as long as it wasn't something too all, Arthur only used his log to complain, it wasn't as though he was posting all of his deepest, darkest secrets for the world to see.

"You really are surrounded by many amazing people," Francis said.

.

_Sometimes when everything seems wrong with the world, it might just be how you're seeing the world. A good, firm slap from a friend should help, even if they don't actually slap you just need a reminder, and that reminder feels like a slap. It happens quickly, and suddenly, but in the end it turns out to be everything you ever really needed to start seeing clearly again._

_ Now, none of this is to say that I've forgiven _him _or that everything between us is solved and everything will go back to being far less than peachy keen and squeaky, shiny happy, but at least now I know I've been being ridiculous. Sure, I don't like him,but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate his company._

_ Every year for both mine and his birthdays, we make cakes together, and the worse they turn out in the end, the more fun we had making them. How could I possibly say I hate those memories? I don' hate those memories, they are, in fact, some of the best memories of my life, I couldn't imagine life without biannual cake fests._

.

_i saw francis car in your driveway what was he there for?_

_ Well because you decided to ditch out on tradition, I invited him over and we made one._

Alfred didn't text back. Was he angry with Arthur? He had no right to be, of course Arthur was going to do something, with or without Alfred!

_It turned out rather decently, if I do say so myself. Of course Francis did most of the cooking._

Still, Alfred didn't respond. Arthur, finally giving into the urge that had been itching at his fingertips all day long, threw his phone across the room. It slammed into the wall and then to the floor with two very loud crashes, and Francis was awake in an instant.

He rubbed his eyes and went searching for his own phone, groaning when he saw the time and Arthur still wide awake. "_Cher_, it's three in the morning. Please stop having a fit and get to sleep. Certainly you realize it is a vital human function?"

Arthur nodded, and shifted on the spare bed he had brought into his room. Francis, _obviously_, couldn't sleep on the couch or the floor or some nasty rotten old air mattress, so he had stolen Arthur's bed without a second thought, while Arthur was left on the floor on the nasty rotten old air mattress. It was uncomfortable and hurt his back, but he supposed it was Francis' way of payback after he had left Arthur alone for five minutes and come back to ruined frosting.

"How did you manage to make vanilla frosting brown?" he had asked.

"Well it said vanilla extract but I didn't read how much, so I just poured in what I thought was right," Arthur said. Francis looked like he was going to keel over and die right then and there.

"In five hours when I wake up I expect you to be asleep," Francis said. "If you don't sleep enough you'll-"

"Get wrinkles," Arthur interrupted. "I know, I know. I was talking to Alfred."

Francis was quiet for a few moments. "What did he say?"

"Practically nothing," Arthur said. He wasn't sure if he was angry or upset, but it definitely seemed to be some sort of mixture of the two. "Thank you for coming over today."

Francis smiled softly, his affection shown through throwing a rabbit stuffed toy as hard as he could in the general direction of Arthur's head. "You should be grovelling that I bothered to take time from my busy schedule to grace you with my presence."

Arthur hugged the rabbit to his chest. This one was King Henry, the only one he had kept when they moved from England. "Oh, pardon me for not realizing just how lucky I was."

"I will forgive it this time," Francis said, his words light and playful. They both stopped talking, but it was easy for them to tell that neither of them were asleep. "Please try not to let some stupid boy ruin your whole life, Arthur. He is just Alfred, and there will be one million Alfreds out there for you. In thirty years, it won't matter that he did not return your feelings."

It wasn't what Arthur wanted to hear, but he nodded. "Thank you," he said.

* * *

A/N: As a culinary student myself I really feel for Francis this chapter. The vanilla frosting turned brown due to an excess of vanilla extract is something that has happened in one of my classes and I have never been more horrified or more entertained in my life. We dared someone else to eat it for 20$ and he got sick everywhere it was a good day in the kitchen.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I apologize ahead of time for the extremely late update! I am very sorry about that! However, there is a reason. Due to a recent stroke of luck and a good interview, I am now going to school _and_ I am employed. Because of this, I will be far busier than I have been, and I simply do not have the time for weekly updates anymore. I apologize but the updates will now be somewhere around one to two chapters per month, _maybe_ three depending on how busy I am.

* * *

Arthur didn't know how, but once again, Francis was at his house instead of Alfred. It wasn't as common for Alfred to visit over winter break in the past, but he had still been invited, and yet turned Arthur down.

"Alfred, my parents are going to Bristol and have spared me the absolute _joy_ of accompanying them and greeting my _lovely_ cousins, I wouldn't mind if you visited at some point," he said, as he and Alfred walked to the American's truck.

While he was still obviously upset with Arthur, and maybe upset with himself, too, Alfred still gave Arthur rides home after their continued study sessions. It was the last day of school before break, and everyone got out early. Even Penny, but she had plans with some of her friends, so Alfred was stuck with Arthur.

"That's great, Arthur," Alfred said. He tried to smile. Arthur frowned. He had never seen something so fake and gut-wrenching before in his life. "I'll think about it, okay?"

Arthur nodded, but didn't say anything more. The car ride to their houses was tense, what with the lack of music and both obviously avoiding eye contact with the other. Arthur pined for the months before when they had started to become so much closer, despite Arthur being as stubborn as he possibly could about everything.

_"Not until you join me and you're in a better mood!" Alfred yelled as he turned up the song. He was being as annoying as he possibly could, but it also had some sort of stupid charm to it that made it hard for Arthur to not smile. He rolled down the truck windows, and began wailing like an injured cat out of the window at all passers by. Arthur tried to bury himself into the collar of his sweater, his face and neck beet red. "Their shadows searching, in the NIIIIIIIIIIGHT!"_

Three days after break had started, and Arthur's parents were across the Atlantic Ocean, he paid Alfred a visit. It was something he rarely did, despite the two of them being so close. Close in both literal and figurative terms. The air was cold and crisp, but he sacrificed the safety of his nose and ears knowing that Alfred wouldn't turn him out and leave him on the doorstep.

An unfamiliar car was in the Jones' driveway, and Arthur's heart sank. He had no idea if Penny drove, or what kind of car she had if she did drive, but what else was he supposed to assume? He could practically hear the two of them laughing at some dumb joke Alfred's father had made, while Alfred's mother made them a treat of some sort.

He didn't back away from his mission, though, and strode up to Alfred's front door with as much pride as he could muster. It was a hard thing to do, in very thin clothes in the dead of winter and it took all of his willpower to not begin shivering. He knocked on the door, and Alfred was there a few seconds later. A huge grin was splayed across his lips, and Arthur could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. When was the last time Alfred had smiled at him like that?

"Hey, Artie!" he cheered, and pulled Arthur into his house. "We were all just about to watch a bunch of movies Penny hasn't seen, and my mom made too much food, even though there's really no such thing, it'd be great if you stayed!"

Arthur couldn't tell if he was dreaming or not. Yes, Penny was there, but Alfred wasn't mad at him. He seemed just like his usual self. "What movies?" he asked.

"Oh, a bunch! Indiana Jones, Men In Black, Lord of the Rings," he continued listing movies, while Arthur took off his shoes.

"Aren't you mad at me?" Arthur asked. He didn't even mean to ask it, and Alfred instantly fell silent.

Within a couple of seconds he seemed so serious. "Yes," Alfred said, "I was mad at you." Arthur frowned, that wasn't what he had wanted to hear. "But I was a jerk, and it wasn't fair."

"You're being so wise," Arthur said, raising an eyebrow. "What's gotten into you?"

"Artie, please," Alfred said, his tone bordering on annoyance. Arthur's frown impossibly deepened. "Just let me talk, okay?"

"Fine," Arthur growled.

"I was mad at you for being mad at me and for being mad at Penny, and I didn't get why you were mad, but we were really making you into a third wheel," Alfred said. Arthur could have laughed at how mild Alfred was making everything sound. "But I promise I won't do that to you again, okay?"

"Okay," Arthur said. A small smile was threatening to break his façade as Alfred began grinning again, and dragged him into to room where the Jones family kept their tv and all of their dvds.

It was just like when they were little, Alfred's father was in his usual spot on a reclining chair, a cup of some sort of soda on the table to his left. Alfred's mother was setting out plates of snacks for everyone, ever the kind and thoughtful grandmotherly type of woman. The only thing that was out-of-place was Penny. She was snuggled up in Alfred's jacket. Arthur felt a dagger of jealously pierce his heart. That jacket was given to Alfred by his grandfather, and he never let anybody touch it. Yet there Penny was, looking quite content with herself.

Alfred flopped down right next to her, and pulled her close. Arthur sat down as far as he could from them while still being on the same couch. Arthur gave Penny a polite smile, and she returned the gesture.

.

"How did I end up spending Christmas like this?" Arthur groaned. He was stretched out on his bed back at his house, a week after the movies. Francis was equally as relaxed as he was, however his chosen perch was Arthur, rather than the bed or the floor.

"Are you complaining?" Francis asked. He adjusted himself, centering all of his weight on Arthur's stomach and generally being as annoying as possible.

Arthur groaned, and rubbed at his eyes. "You're lucky you brought booze or I would have kicked your ass right back out onto the street."

Francis laughed and crossed his legs. "You would never do something so cruel, Arthur. You try to be like a porcupine but really you are like a little hedgehog. Far less threatening far more cuddly."

Arthur tried to give Francis the best glare he could muster. With all the alcohol in his blood, his face felt like a too-warm pile of clay that doesn't do anything it's supposed to do. "I'm not like either of those, Francis, you're just a drunk asshole."

"Ah, Arthur," Francis sighed, "but so are you."

"I'm not drunk!" he snapped.

"_Cher_, you take one sip of wine and you're passed out and in a loincloth. We've nearly had three bottles of wine, there is no doubt that you're drunk."

Arthur groaned again. He knew he was drunk, he just didn't want to say it. He also knew that the hangovers the both of them were going to have once they woke were going to be the worst hangovers they had ever experienced. At least neither of them had puked.

"We have not even had dinner yet," Francis muttered. It was close to eleven. Arthur wondered what Alfred was doing.

"I'll get something," Arthur said. Francis rolled his eyes as Arthur managed to struggle from underneath him, one hand against the wall to balance himself.

"Try not to die," he called as Arthur turned out of his room and into the hallway. He sighed and adjusted himself so he was lying the proper way on Arthur's bed. His room was a disaster of posters and good grades he had achieved and pictures from when he was younger, but it had a sense of charm to it. A charm that, through the clutter and the mile-high stacks of books, was so very Arthur.

Arthur, almost to the front door of his house, wasn't sure what foot he was moving or how far away the ground was from him. He couldn't see straight anymore, and everything was turning into a giant congealed mass of things that always seemed to be just out of his reach. Was the door always so far away?

He didn't bother to put shoes or a jacket on, figuring that in the short walk to Alfred's house he would be fine. There was a light dusting of snow everywhere, barely enough to coat all of the grass, but each step felt like walking through a field of broken bottles. Each step brought him further away from Alfred's house, even though he knew he was approaching it at a fast pace.

He had thought everything was so far away, but suddenly he was at Alfred's door, knocking furiously against the wood paneling. Surely everyone was asleep, but he needed to see Alfred. He didn't even know if his fist was making contact with the door, but he continued the familiar motion.

"Arthur, what the fuck?"

Alfred was in front of him, in his pajamas and looking ruffled. Arthur was amazed that he had been asleep so early on a holiday. Though, the Jones tradition was to wake up early Christmas morning and make breakfast together. Arthur had only joined them in their tradition once, and it was one of the happiest days of his life. Everything had gone right that day, even though Alfred and Arthur had been young and weren't able to cook.

Tradition.

Tradition.

_Tradition_.

It laughed at him like a hyena, reminded him of how Alfred had gotten mad at him and left him feeling like a piece of shit. Hot tears were in his eyes and spilling over his cheeks.

"Screw your damned tradition," he hissed. His throat felt tight, and he wiped at the liquid pouring from his eyes.

Alfred had his hands on either side of Arthur's face in an instant, looking into his hazy jade eyes with worry. "Arthur, what's wrong?" He moved one hand to press it to Arthur's forehead. He didn't feel sick.

"You were _mad_ at me," Arthur said, the ends of his words falling short.

"Are you _drunk_?!" Alfred snapped. Arthur shook his head, but he could hear Alfred groaning. "You're drunk, and you come over here at eleven, are you serious?"

Arthur shook his head again, but he knew the truth. Yes, he was drunk. Yes, he had blundered to Alfred's house like a lost child. Yes, he was a shitty friend. The tears wouldn't stop. If anything, they got worse as time passed.

Alfred sighed, and looped one of Arthur's arms around his shoulders. "Come on, let's get you into bed," Alfred said.

Arthur didn't struggle, instead clinging to Alfred's warmth. He couldn't feel his feet anymore, and his face felt like it was being stabbed with millions of tiny needles over and over again. He couldn't even imagine how ridiculous he looked, stumbling and red-faced and slurring.

"You love Penny more than me," Arthur muttered.

"What did you say?" Alfred asked.

"Penny, you're always with her..."

"Arthur," Alfred had to suppress a laugh, "we're dating."

"But I'm your best friend!" Arthur snapped. He shot Alfred a teary-eyed glare. "You're _supposed_ to be with me all of the time."

"Arthur, calm down, you're drunk," Alfred said. He was afraid of what would happen if Arthur said something he didn't mean when he was intoxicated. It wasn't exactly rare for him to do so, and ended up with Alfred knowing a lot of things he really didn't need to know. More often than not, Arthur did mean what he said, but he was always too embarrassed to ever say anything about it.

"Who's more important to you?" Arthur asked. He was starting to slip out of Alfred's grip and towards the ground that looked so far away. The white grass was sinking below his feet, pulling him into some sort of pit that he would never be able to get out of once he was in it. The thought scared him. He looked up at Alfred. His eyes were so blue, it looked unnatural. Arthur had never seen such blue eyes.

"Artie, please, you're both equally important to me," Alfred said. All Arthur could see were his eyes, his lips, both so warm and inviting. "Don't make me say something that will get you upset again, and you're drunk so no matter what I say you'll get upset."

Arthur couldn't look away from his eyes, couldn't break the gaze. His body moved without his consent, his hands in Alfred's butterscotch locks, his smaller frame pressed against Alfred's larger, warmer body, his lips against Alfred's.

Alfred didn't recoil, so Arthur kept kissing him, kept searching for more _more__ more_. More of Alfred, more of his blue eyes. Only after he realized that Alfred wasn't reacting did he pull away. His blue eyes were full of pity. Arthur hated the look he had on his face.

"Please, don't leave me again," Arthur whispered. He couldn't be sure if Alfred had understood or even heard him, couldn't be sure if he had even said the words. "-love you..."

"Arthur," Alfred said, his voice like a summer breeze on a rainy day, "you're drunk..."

.

"Arthur?" His voice sounded so far away, like something Arthur could never reach. "Arthur, _cher_, I've made you tea. Heaven knows how much pain you're in right now."

"I would have been better if you had kept your mouth shut," Arthur hissed. He couldn't trouble himself to sit up, and to the right of him he could hear a cup being set down.

"Mm, of course. It has nothing to do with how much alcohol you'd had."

"What time is it?" he groaned.

"Around four pm," Francis said.

Arthur shot up in an instant, but the sudden pounding behind his eyes made him lie back down. "You're not serious are you?"

"Oh, I am completely serious," Francis laughed. "That was quite the stunt you pulled last night. Wandering out on your own, no shoes, no coat, what if you had passed out and died, Arthur? It was thirty degrees last night when you went out, that was the stupidest thing I've ever seen someone do."

"Please, shut up, Francis," Arthur grumbled. Each sound was like a knife through his brain.

"No, I'm not done yet. You decide worrying me isn't enough, and burden Alfred as well. He's still here, you know."

Arthur shot up again, setting aside the pain for as long as he could to open his eyes. "What?" he snapped.

Francis laughed. "I'm kidding, _cher_. What would you have done if I hadn't been lying about that?"

Arthur curled his nose. "Tactful as ever, Francis."

Francis gave him a wink. "You know you love me," Francis said. "But allow me to continue. You bother Alfred, drag him back here, fall all over him, _kiss him_, practically _confess your love to him_, and then pass out in his arms." Arthur couldn't have blushed more. "Poor dear, he tries to carry you inside on his own, and barely manages to get you to the couch before turning all flustered and leaving as quickly as he could."

"I don't remember any of it," Arthur grumbled. "I hate when you let me get drunk."

"Arthur, it is not my sworn responsibility to keep you from drinking yourself silly," Francis said. "You're old enough to manage yourself."

Arthur hated when Francis was right. "What do I do about Alfred?" he asked.

"That's not my problem, Arthur," Francis said.

"At least give me some sort of advice!" Arthur snapped. The volume of his own words had him reeling, he felt sick.

"All I can give you in the form of advice is to figure it out on your own, Arthur. I cannot be your babysitter forever."

Francis was standing up, his coat draped over his arm. "While you do not have family here currently, I do, and they do expect me home to help make dinner." He had a soft smile on his face with one eyebrow raised, per usual.

"Of course," Arthur said. He sat up properly and took the mug of tea that had been set in front of him. "Merry Christmas, Francis."

"Merry Christmas."


End file.
